


The Taste of His Skin

by type_40_consulting_detective



Series: My Short Works [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Time Blow Jobs, M/M, One Shot, POV First Person, POV John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 03:05:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1763669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/type_40_consulting_detective/pseuds/type_40_consulting_detective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two weeks of quick, shared orgasms, rutting and grasping like teenagers and it was nearly the best sex of my life. Too excited and impatient to fully undress, lost to adrenaline and the urge to touch and be touched. Tonight, though? Tonight was different. I had been touching him without seeing him, without savoring, and that was going to change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Taste of His Skin

It hadn’t been long, this thing, whatever it was we had. Two weeks of quick, shared orgasms, rutting and grasping like teenagers and it was nearly the best sex of my life. Too excited and impatient to fully undress, lost to adrenaline and the urge to touch and be touched. Tonight, though? Tonight was different. I had been touching him without seeing him, without savoring, and that was going to change.

The urgent look was gone from his fiery eyes when he pulled me close that night, taking my hand and walking me to the bedroom. I was nearly sick with anticipation, and stripped him slowly, one button at a time, like a long awaited present. Each revealed patch of creamy flesh called out to be kissed, and I did not leave any of it wanting. He understood my intentions and stripped off his pants and trousers when I stepped back.

He wasn’t the first man I had seen naked, but he was by far the most beautiful. Lean and tall, a contrast of sharp angles and long curves. A few freckles peppered his skin and drew my attention to his knees, his hips, his ribs, and up to his neck. He huffed impatiently, breaking the spell his body held on me. I was on him then, with slow worshipful strokes and light kisses. He backed to the bed, laying himself out carefully, so I never lost contact. Whimpers and sighs were the only soundtrack to my worship of him, and I spoke silent praises with my lips and tongue directly into his blood and bones. “This is real” I seared into his flesh with my tender work. “I am here and I always will be.”

When I hovered over him, perched to take him into my mouth for the first time, he pulled me back by the hair. The look he gave was loaded with meaning, layers and layers of doubt and hope and lust. I wasn’t sure what he saw in my eyes, but it seemed to calm his apprehension, and he smoothed his hand down my body to rest on the bed.

All the internet research in the world could never truly prepare you for your first time giving oral to another man. Nothing fully described the mouthfeel of velvet over stone, the overwhelming scent and taste of the skin. I tried to concentrate, to keep the pace slow and coordinate my hand with my mouth. Then he moaned. His voice was like pure sex, rough and desperate. It was a tone I had never heard from him before. I swirled my tongue to draw out another and another, the sound like a drug to my system.

He bucked his hips slightly, trying to hold back. I sucked him in as deep as I could, feeling my throat tighten and threaten to gag. In and out, over and over, swirling my tongue. It was so much to concentrate on, but worth it for the bucking of his hips and pulses of bitter precome. His hands in my hair and his wordless cries were drove me on. I doubled my efforts and looked up to see an expression I had never seen on him before. His face was flushed and his eyes were dark and half lidded. He met my gaze before shutting them, perhaps overwhelmed by what he saw.

Suddenly, he was trying to pull away and thrust at the same time. His moans turned gasping and frantic. I went down once more and felt him fill my mouth with come. I swallowed and the texture made me gag a bit, but I sucked him through it. When he weakly shoved at my forehead, I pulled off. I started to lick clean the drops that had escaped my mouth. His voice changed to pleased murmurs, almost like purrs, and I was filled with affection for my lover. My lover! Calling him that in my mind would never grow old.

I lay back next to him, facing him and pillowed on his limp upper arm. The racing beat of his heart was against my cheek. He turned and cocooned me in long limbs, more affectionate and sweet than I had expected from him. His lips were in my hair, whispering praises. Perhaps he feared that if the words were spoken too loud, he’d have to claim them. They were nothing like him, the ‘him’ he let everyone see. I kissed his neck softly, little pecks to thank him silently. I knew if I spoke it aloud, he would go on about the effects of neurochemicals, oxytocin and serotonin and the like. Better to enjoy it then bring it up and have the moments explained away like some science experiment in his desire to avoid sentiment. His words were dropping off into soft snores, and I snuggled closer, absorbing what I could while he allowed it.

**Author's Note:**

> I owe a thousand thank to the writer's circle jerk for the word wars and beta-ing. This would be shit without them. [janto321](http://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321) & [beltainefaire](http://archiveofourown.org/users/beltainefaerie/pseuds/beltainefaerie) & [themadkatter13](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMadKatter13/pseuds/TheMadKatter13) & [beautifullyheeled](http://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifullyheeled/pseuds/beautifullyheeled)


End file.
